The SeventyThird Hunger Games
by elliot.and.jd.4eva1
Summary: Yes, another submit your own tribute story. Leave a review or PM me with your tribute. CLOSED. Reapings will begin soon.
1. Chapter 1

**I just had to do this. Yes, it's been done before, I know. However, I wanted to try it. The Hunger Games is absolutely brilliant. Truly amazing. **

Welcome to the seventy-third Hunger Games! The year before Katniss and Peeta, ooh the excitement! Here's the form to fill in to enter.

Name:

Age:

District:

Gender:

Personality:

Friends/Family:

Appearance:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Weapons:

District Token:

Reaping Outfit:

Chariot Outfit:

Interview Oufit:

Quote for the interview:

Mentor:

Stylist:

Ideas for the arena:

Alliances:

Relationships:

Other:

If there are more entries than places, I will draw the names for the tributes. Maximum of two entries per person. Will you be from humble District 12, or a Career tribute from District 1? Only one way to find out! Review to enter. Please use as much detail as possible as this may influence the final decision for tributes. Good luck, have fun and may the odds be ever in your favour!

**Kate.**


	2. Final list of tributes

This is the final list. I'll try to update ASAP. I have my last exam on Monday, so after that I should definitely be able to. I'll try to before then though. I had to change around the districts a bit, so as to allow everyone possible to take part. Unfortunately there were 2 female tributes who there wasn't space for. I'm very sorry. Thank you to everyone for entering your tributes. Thanks again and I'm sorry if your tribute was not included.

District One

Male:

Name: Champion Verona

Age: 18

Female:

Name: Carmine Sinopia

Age: 18

District Two

Male:

Name: Demetrius Rylance

Age: 18

Female:

Name: Aura Lain.

Age: 17

District Three

Male:

Name: Numeric Packard

Age: 14

Female:

Name: Melrose Meade

Age: fourteen

District Four

Male:

Name: Cliff Douglas

Age: 18

Female:

Name: Eris Delgrave

Age: 17

District Five

Male:

Name: Adrian Martinez

Age: 16

Female:

Name: Jesaray Edwards, but prefers Jessie

Age: 16

District Six

Male:

Name: Luca Boveri

Age: 15

Female:

Name:Cosette Keegan

Age:14

District Seven

Male:

Name: Ronan Armstrong

Age: 17

Female:

Name: Tera Sullivan

Age: 16

District Eight

Male:

Name: Elias Smite

Age: 16

Female:

Name: Tanily(Tana)Valban

Age: 15

District Nine

Male:

Name: Xavier Muldoon

Age: 18

Female:

Name: Mayrose Lockhart

Age: Seventeen

District Ten

Male:

Name: Ezra Fonio

Age:15

Female:

Name: Winda Svala

Age: 14

District Eleven

Male:

Name: Carter Hew

Age: 18

Female:

Name:Violet Meadows

Age: 17

District Twelve

Male:

Name: Jace Lefthorn

Age: 18

Female:

Name: KateMcKinley "Kin" Bennett

Age: 16

Thanks,

Kate


	3. District One Reaping

Okay, so this is the District One Reaping. I didn't think that I would get it up so soon, but, here it is! Tada. Wow, that was lame. Like I performed magic. Well, in a way, it is. Or not. Sorry, I've lost my train of thought. Anyway, I introduce to you the tributes of District One: Carmine Sinopia and Champion Verona. I hope that I have done them justice.

I do not own the Hunger Games! I swear! It belongs to Suzanne Collins. *sigh*

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**District One Reaping.**

_Carmine Sinopia_

It was my year. I would be victorious. I knew it, everyone knew it. This was what I had been training my entire life for. It was my destiny. I was going to win the Hunger Games. And nobody was going to stand in my way. If they did, they would die a horrible, horrible death.

I arose early, as I had done for as long as I could remember. I dressed in my training clothes and made my way down to the basement. My trainer, Shimmer Violets, was one of the most renowned winners of the Hunger Games from District One. She was strong, intelligent and ruthless. It was only the best for me.

We spent hours working on my sword technique, though of course it was already perfect. Two hours before the reaping would start, we finished. I was dripping with sweat and a smirk was fixed to my lips. I was going to win. Not only was I going to win, but I was going to enjoy it. Immensely. Shimmer shook my hand and wished me luck. Luck, don't be ridiculous. I didn't need luck. I was invincible. I said such and turned on my heel, then made my way upstairs. Luck! Luck was for the hopeless. The deluded. The deranged. Luck was what the other tributes in the arena would need. I didn't need luck. There was no doubt that I was going to win. It was an inevitability.

I walked into the kitchen and sat down. ''Mother!'' I called. ''Where is my food? I am about to be reaped for the Hunger Games. I need food. NOW!'' I was beginning to become impatient. Who did people think they were to keep me waiting? I was the future victor of the seventy-third Hunger Games. I couldn't to arrive home. I would live in the Victor's Village. I would have many servants. I would have my every whim catered to. Most importantly, I would be away from this crowded house. Away from my siblings and their awful, loud, messy children. Coincidentally, one of them walked in at that very moment. It was Isabelline and her face was covered in jam. Disgusting. I turned away in disdain as a heaping plate of food was set in front of me.

''Here you are, my darling.'' My mother said with a smile.

''About time!'' I snapped. She had kept me waiting for far too long. It was downright unacceptable.

I ate my food quickly to make up for lost time. Then I stormed upstairs. I was running late. I only had an hour and a half to ready myself. This was one of the most important moments of my life. I had to look my very best. Though it wasn't as if I didn't always look my best. I always looked magnificent. There was nothing I could do about it. I had simply been born that way. I have dark, brown hair that reaches the bottom of my ribcage and golden, tanned skin. My eyes are a deep, bright blue. My body is well toned and well-worked. I have a well defined face with a majestic Roman nose and high cheekbones. In short, I am absolutely beautiful.

I enter my room to see my sisters, Magenta, Sienna and Scarlett. They are her to help me dress. They inform me that Mother would be up soon. I fumed. She was truly pushing her luck today. I grabbed my towel, soaps, perfumes and such and went to bathe. When I returned, they were waiting with my gown.

It was a shockingly bright red, empire-waist dress. When I put it on, it would reach my knees. The bodice had rubies and garnets forming paisleys all over it. My sisters and my mother helped me into the dress, fastening it for me. They then sat me at my vanity and went to work on my hair and make-up. They braided my hair with red ribbons running through it and then twisted it into a chignon at the base of my neck. My make-up was natural and highlighted my beautiful features. I slipped auburn pumps onto my feet. I was ready to be reaped.

My family and I made our way to the town centre of District One, where the reaping would take place. I led the way with my siblings and their little brats trailing behind me. My parents flanked my shoulders. They were ever so proud of me, and why shouldn't they be? I was bringing honour to the family, something my good-for-nothing siblings had failed miserably to do.

I made my way to the 18's section. People were staring at my outfit. They were eyeing me enviously. Pathetic. I greeted my friends, Armoire Fauteuil and Champion Verona. Vanity Ottoman was over in the 17's section. I conversed with them for a while. Then Mayor Townsend began his annual spiel. Yes, The Treaty of Treason. Can we please get onto the important part? Now? He finally finished and Cashmere Ivory and Gloss Ivory made their way onto the stage. They spent even more time talking about things that didn't matter and I could feel my temper rising. Why couldn't they simply get on with it?

After what seemed like an eternity, Cashmere Ivory made her way to the crystal bowl which contained the names of the potential female tributes.

''Ladies first.'' She trilled in her ridiculously high voice. ''Happy Hunger Games and May the odds be _ever_ in your favour.''

Her slender hand dived into the bowl and searched for a ridiculously large amount of time. I began to gnash my teeth together with frustration. Finally, her hand resurfaced from the depths of the bowl, the slip of paper clutched in her fingers.

She opened the paper and began to read. ''Sara Longline.'' I didn't know the girl. I didn't care who she was. She was inconsequential.

''I volunteer!'' I called loudly and clearly, the name just having left her lips. I then glared at anyone else who might attempt to take my opportunity from me. My glare said, ''Don't even think about it.''

Armoire, it seemed, was too dim to receive the message. ''I vo-..'' She began. However, she didn't get to finish. I punched her in the jaw before she could and she fell to the ground with a loud thud. She hit her head and lost consciousness. Blood began to pool around her. Serves her right. How dare she? She was a traitor.

I began to make my way towards the stage. Cries for help were emanating from the scene I had left. Wary eyes followed me as I sashayed my way to the stage. I was in no hurry, this was **my **time. It was good that I had to put Armoire in her place. Now I would be known as a formidable adversary from the very start.

I climbed onto the stage and shook the hands of the frightened-looking mentors and mayor. I looked out into the crowd and they seemed to shrink back in fear. I smiled. I relished their fear, fed off of it. It was delectable. Gloss Ivory cleared his throat and made his way to the crystal bowl with the names of potential male tributes. He plunged his hand into the bowl and quickly pulled it out with the name. Before he could even read out the name, a voice spoke out in the crowd. ''I volunteer!'' It exclaimed. Strangely enough, he was the only person to volunteer. I wondered who my temporary ally was. I found out soon enough as he briskly made his way onto the stage and shook the hands of the mentors and mayor. It was Champion. Champion Verona. How dare he? How could he? He knew that this was my year. I hope that he didn't think I was going to allow him to beat me. He had completely disrupted my plans.

The mentors told us to shake hands and presented us to all of District One as their tributes. The crowd cheered. I shook his hand and conveyed my simple message with my eyes.

''You're dead.''

_Champion Verona._

I awoke reasonably early. I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. My mother had made a hearty breakfast. She knew that I was going to volunteer. She was worried but held her tongue. She knew that it was no use. I would not be deterred. My brother, father and sister were sitting at the table, eating also. We ate in comfortable silence.

After breakfast, I made my way downstairs to practice my aim with my bow and arrow. Then I went onto the maces. After an hour or so I was reasonably happy. I went upstairs to wash and get dressed. I wore a tailored, black jacket with two large buttons, a white, chiffon button down shirt, a bright red, silk tie with tiny designs made with pearls on it, and denim blue jeans. I wore running shoes on my feet. We all then made our way down to the town centre.

I walked over to my own section and waited. Carmine arrived shortly afterwards and spoke excitedly of how she was going to be the victor of this year's Hunger Games. I wouldn't be so sure, Carmine. I basically tuned out for a while after that. Before I knew it, Carmine was onstage and it was my turn to volunteer. I did so and made my way to the stage. I shook the hands of the mayor and the mentors. When Carmine and I shook hands, she shot me a look that told of my imminent death. Ah, Carmine. Ever the drama queen. It was all about her. I had every right to volunteer. Yes, there may come a time when we would have to kill one another. However, could we not work Assist one another in the disposing of our competition. And then, may the better man win, as they say. I chuckled. Carmine would not like that phrase at all. She would accuse me of insinuating that only a man could win. I shook my head slowly and looked out to the crowd, cheering loudly. I had a shot at winning this. A real shot. If I did, my life would be a breeze afterward. I waved to the crowd and envisioned my possible future. Full of relaxation and luxury. My family and I would be set for life. It looked nice. Really nice. And I would do whatever it took to come back and get it.

_Carmine Sinopia._

I paced up and down the room in the Justice Building. How could he do this? He was a traitor as-well. Traitor! I would kill him for it. Nobody stood in my way!

My parents came through the door. ''We're so proud of you! We know you're going to win!'' They exclaimed before embracing me. My brothers and sisters stood awkwardly by the door. Their brats and spouses were with them. They all looked worried. Fuck them! I was going to win. No matter what! My mother handed me my district token, a carmine coloured ribbon. She kissed my cheek and turned to leave.

Alizarin walked over to me and took my hand. He looked into my eye, kissed my forehead and said, ''Good luck, Carmine. From all of us. We love you and want you to come back. We can't bear another loss.'' I wrenched my hand from his grasp. How dare he mention Haas? On this day of all days? I began to feel the tears prick my eyes. I turned form their prying eyes and said coolly, ''I don't need luck.'' They let out a collective sigh and left. It was only when I was completely alone that I let the tears fall. Nobody else visited me.

_Champion Verona._

My mother was inconsolable. She sobbed continuously. ''Mom, please stop crying.'' I pleaded. It was no use. My brother and sister looked on helplessly. They could do nothing to help, either. She cried until the Peacekeepers came. She hugged me tightly and waked out, sobs wracking her tiny frame. The sight would forever torment me. Ace and Enchant wished me luck and hurried after my mother.

My father hugged me tightly and said, ''I wish you the best of luck, son. Please, do your best to come home.'' I could see the un-shed tears in his eyes. He held my gaze for a long moment, shook my hand, then turned and left. I had never felt so alone. I felt a new determination to win. I would return home. I would.

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Well, what did you think? Leave a review! otherwise, how will I know? I already feel a connection to these characters, as rididculous as it sounds. For example, I really want Champion to return home and am plotting creative ways to kill the over-confident Carmine. Now you know how sad I truly am. Alas. I hope you still stick around for District Two, which will be up ASAP. Don't forget to review.

Thanks for reading,

Kate.


	4. District Two Reaping

Okay, so this is District Two. That's two updates in two days. That's a bit of a record for me. Hope you like it. I present to you, the tributes of District Two; Aura Lain and Demetrius Rylance. Enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins. I swear.

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**District Two Reaping.**

_Aura Lain. _

I awoke three hours before the reaping was scheduled to begin. That would allow me an hour to fine-tune my throwing technique. I smirked at the thought. As if I needed the practice. The other tributes in the arena were doomed. I was going to win. It was as simple as that.

I walked down the stairs at a leisurely pace. I sat down at the table and a nameless servant place a plate of breakfast in front of me. I looked at the empty chairs around the table and sighed. Dad was gone. As usual. Just once, I wished that he would stay and talk to me. Just once. I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat and shook my head rigorously. He would have to spend time with me when I won. Pay attention to me. Acknowledge my existence. I swallowed once again and stood up, leaving my plate. Someone would get it. It was not my responsibility.

I walked down to the basement, to train for the next hour and a half. I threw blades, knives, anything I could reach with a sharp edge. This was my day. The parental neglect of my father was not going to ruin that. No way.

Approximately ninety minutes later, I made my way upstairs to my room, dripping with sweat. I bathed and went into my room. I looked into my mirror and smiled. I was magnificent. I was tall with white, blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. I was going to be the victor of the seventy-third Hunger Games. And then everything would be okay. It would be more than okay, I would be famous. Rich too, of course. However, I was already rich. I didn't care about the money. I had enough of that already. I wanted the recognition. The fame. The _fear. _I craved it, thirsted it. I would have it.

I wore black skinny jeans, combat boots, a black tank-top and a sweater. The outfit accentuated my curves nicely. I then went back downstairs and checked the time. The reaping would start soon. I had to leave. I walked out the door and made my way to the centre of District Two, alone. I walked over to the seventeen's section and awaited my destiny.

Nobody spoke to me and I didn't speak to anyone. I had no need for them. They were simply small obstacles in my way. One of the males around me could possibly be one of my enemies in the arena. I went solo. I didn't need anyone else.

The mayor went on about the Treaty of Treason for a while. He finally finished and the vacuous female District Two mentor, Indigo Violets, bounced to the microphone excitedly.

''Hello good people of District Two,'' she chirped happily. ''I'm so excited; I just know that District Two will have a victor this year. Let us start. Ladies first. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!'' A cheer went up through the crowd. Yes, the district would have a victor this year, me.

Her hand plunged into the circular bowl and fished around, finally pulling out a small slip of paper. She straightened dramatically and breathed in deeply. ''Emma-'', she began. I didn't allow her to finish. ''I volunteer!'' I called loudly and quickly made my way to the stage, thus stopping anyone else from volunteering. I shook the hands of the two mentors and the mayor and stood still, waiting for the second tribute.

Greggory Hart was a more reserved man, quieter. He simply put his hand into the bowl and took out a name. He was not even allowed to begin.

''I volunteer!'' A voice called loudly. A boy, about eighteen, slowly made his way to the stage. His swagger spoke of over-confidence and obnoxiousness. I already didn't like him. He was very tall and muscled, with short, black, spiky hair and strikingly blue eyes.

''Demetrius Rylance. The next victor of District Two.'' He introduced cockily. I wouldn't be so sure, Demetrius. We shook hands and I narrowed my eyes at him.

Later, in the Justice Building, I awaited my father in vain. Did he even know that I was here? He must. Eventually, the Peacekeepers came. They told me that my time was up. My face hardened. He wasn't coming.

''Fine.'' I said coolly. I left the room, without a backward glance.

_Demetrius Rylance_

I woke up about a half hour before the reaping. I could, of course, have woken up earlier, to practise. But why should I bother? I didn't need to. I was going to win, that was a fact. There was no point in my wasting time training when I was so well-prepared already.

I went downstairs where my mother put a heaping plate of food in front of. I ate it quickly, then went upstairs to prepare for the reaping. I washed quickly and dressed. I wore a tight, black shirt that displayed my well-toned muscles and black pants. I looked at myself in the mirror and marvelled at how good-looking I was. It was ridiculous, really. I was a magnificent specimen, truly.

I walked downstairs to see my brothers, Angelo and Reid.

''Good luck, little bro.'' They said while slapping me on the back. I snorted.

''I don't luck.'' I said.

''True.'' They laughed.

We all made our way to the centre of District Two all together. People along the way greeted me and wished me luck. But, of course, I didn't need it. I went to the eighteen's section and waited impatiently for the mayor to shut up and allow the reapings to begin.

Finally, the girl was drawn. Some nobody from the seventeen's volunteered. I almost felt sorry for her. She was going to die. Possibly at my own hand. I almost felt sympathetic. Almost. Though not quite.

Greggory Hart pulled a name from the bowl. I didn't even let him read the name. ''I volunteer.'' I shouted. I walked leisurely up to the stage, relishing everyone's eyes on me. Where they should be. I introduced myself.

''Demetrius Rylance. The next victor of District Two.'' Everyone cheered at this. I shook the other tribute's hand and she narrowed her eyes at me. Was she trying to intimidate me? Pathetic.

''You're dead.'' I thought.

Later in the Justice Building, my family were saying goodbye to me. I could hear girls weeping outside. They didn't have to worry. I would be back.

''Good luck, son.'' My father said.

''We know that you'll come back. We're ever so proud of you.'' My mother gushed and embraced me.

''See you soon, bro.'' Was all I got form my brothers. They shook my hand, then left. My mother gave me one last hug and left. My father told me how proud he was of me once again and followed them.

Finally, I was alone. It was only a matter of time now. Soon, I would be home. I would be famous, known everywhere. I would have everything I had ever wanted. Nobody was going to stand in my way. And if they did, I grinned, they would definitely regret it.

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Hope you enjoyed it, REVIEW! Please? I don't know what you think if you don't review. They're like Christmas presents. In June!

Next Chapter: District Three. Tributes: Numeric Packard and Melrose Mead!

Thanks for reading,

Kate.


	5. District Three Reaping

The District Three Reaping is here. Enjoy. I present to you; Melrose Meade and Numeric Packard. Tributes of District Three.

Disclaimer: hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. I swear.

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**District Three Reaping.**

_Melrose Meade. _

I awoke the day of the reaping late. I only had twenty minutes to get ready and make my way to the town centre. I would love nothing more than to skip it, but that was basically like signing your death sentence. Attendance was mandatory. Full stop. If you weren't on death's door, you had no excuse to miss the reaping.

I dressed quickly in a pair of black jeans and a gray fitted t-shirt. I ran downstairs and grabbed a quick breakfast, then rushed out the door. My mother called a quick goodbye. One which I did not reciprocate. I had not spoken since the accident. I swallowed hard at the mere thought of it and held back tears. He was gone. My dad was gone. And he was never coming back. Ever.

I resisted the overwhelming urge to collapse to the ground and sob. I had to reach the reaping or I would be joining my father. I began to sprint, and then fell. It wasn't my day, obviously. My knee began to bleed but I went on, wincing in pain each time I had to lean on my injured leg.

I finally reached the town centre. Ella Sprinkles, the female mentor, had just plunged her hand into the crystal bowl with the possible names of the female tributes. I didn't even have the time to be nervous. ''Melrose Meade!'' she called. I froze. This wasn't possible. It couldn't be happening. I was shaken out of my reverie by her repeating my name for the third time, her voice bordering on shrill. The Peacekeepers were poised and ready for action. If I didn't take my place on the stage soon, the ramifications would be severe.

I took slow, measured steps to the stage, hoping in vain that someone would volunteer. Anyone. Nobody did. I took my place and shook the hands of the mentors and the mayor. I then willed myself not to cry. Jack Brown, the male mentor, dropped his hand into the bowl and called the name written on the slip of paper. ''Numeric Packard.'' A small, scrawny boy about my age, fourteen or so, made his way shakily to the stage. We shook hands and faced the crowd. He did so reluctantly. The cheering died down somewhat. I could hear a collective sigh go up through the crowd. They looked from skinny, little me to the scrawny boy at my side and came to the same realisation that I had. District Three was not going to have a victor this year. We would probably both be killed on the very first day. Ella noticed this and called shrilly, ''Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!''

We were then herded into the Justice Building. I waited for my brother and mother. I wouldn't have any other visitors. Being a mute made having friends somewhat problematic. They rushed in moments later and my mother enveloped me in her arms. Little Robert didn't understand what was going on and seemed to be afraid. He began to cry and I stroked his hair to soothe him.

''It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay.'' My mother said repeatedly. Was she trying to convince me or herself? It didn't matter. It wasn't going to be okay. I began to sob. Tears rained down my face and sobs wracked my small frame.

''It's going to be okay.''

No, it wasn't. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

_Numeric Packard. _

I awoke the day of the reaping with plenty of time to spare. I got up and sighed. What a monstrosity the Hunger Games were. There would be no work today, in honour of the reaping.

I walked downstairs slowly. I was quite possibly the clumsiest person in the world. I could not walk across a completely flat surface without tripping. Therefore, stairs were quite the hazard for me. Indeed, I tripped but was able to catch myself before I fell. Perhaps it was my lucky day.

I sat at the table. My mother placed a plate of food in front of me. I avoided her gaze and shrank away when she attempted to pat my head. She sighed and left the room. I didn't mean to hurt her. I really didn't. I tried to talk to her, to allow her to comfort me, to connect with her. However, I couldn't. There was something seriously wrong with me. I couldn't seem to connect with other human beings in the manner that came so effortlessly to others. I loved my mother. I really did. I just wished that I could show her, or tell her. Or just _something._

I checked the time and realised that I had to get ready. I cautiously walked upstairs and washed quickly. I then dressed in my everyday work attire. A rumpled white button-down shirt with a red t-shirt underneath ad a pair of baggy gray pants and sandals. I looked in the mirror and sighed. My pale-blonde, curly hair was as dishevelled as ever. No amount of taming would tidy it. My bones were clearly visible through my almost translucent white skin. I sighed again. I wouldn't last an hour in the arena. I sighed once again and left the room. I walked down the stairs. Unfortunately, I wasn't paying the attention the task deserved; I often found it difficult to concentrate on the outside world. I tripped and fell, flying through the air and eventually landing in a tangled heap on the ground. Fortunately, I was used to such incidents, so the pain was not as severe as it could have been.

I moaned and moved to get up. I couldn't be late. The punishment was too severe. They could hurt Mother. I climbed to my feet and inspected the damage. Luckily nothing was broken. Of course, I would have some nasty bruising that I could have lived without. But I couldn't have everything. I looked up to see my mother with a concerned look on her face. ''Are you okay, Numeric?'' she questioned, worry lacing her voice. ''I'm fine, Mother.'' I mumbled in reply, avoiding her gaze. She bent down and enveloped me in a hug. I stiffened in her arms but did not move away. I felt that I owed her at least that much. ''I love you, Numeric.''

I nodded in reply, hoping with all my being that she understood the message I was trying to convey. ''I love you too, Mother.''

I left the house. I wasn't running awfully late, fortunately. Along the way, I walked into at least ten people. You have to pay attention, Numeric, I scolded myself. I mumbled quick apologies each time in response to their anger and scurried off. When I reached the fourteen's section, I squeezed into a small niche, waiting for the whole thing to be over so I could go home, away from all the people. The mayor finished his Treaty of Treason annual speech and the female mentor stood up. Ella Sprinkles was her name. Preposterous name, by the way. ''Hello everyone,'' she said in a high, false voice. ''I just know that District Three will have a victor this year. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favour!'' She said the same thing each year. The_ exact _same thing. It grew tiresome. I would say that she grew tiresome, but she had never been anything but. ''Ladies first!'' She called.

Her hand plunged into the bowl and swam around for an inordinate amount of time. Finally her hand emerged. She made a show of opening the slip and calling the name. She drew an intake of breath. ''Melrose Meade!'' She called dramatically. I looked around for the unfortunate soul. I found her quite quickly. She had arrived just before the name was called and was standing quite close to me. There was an expression of abject horror and shock on her face.

Her name was called twice more before she moved. She walked slowly to the stage and shook the hands of the mayor and mentors. She then stood motionless, seeming to be fighting tears. I sighed. Such was the evil of the Games. Jack Brown, the male mentor, then went to the other bowl, with male names. He quickly drew out a piece of paper and called the name.

''Numeric Packard.'' What? No, this couldn't be. The probability of my being picked was so low. No. No. No. I swallowed my fear and walked to the stage, shaking all the while. Everything seemed to speed up then, becoming a blur. I had to shake the girl's hand. I didn't want to, but was unsure of the consequences of my refusal to do so. Would they hurt Mother? Or little Circuit? It wasn't worth it.

Next thing I knew, I was in the Justice Building watching my mother sobbing. It was goodbye. We both knew it. Eventually, the Peacekeepers came. I had to let my mother know that I loved her. I couldn't leave her forever without telling her at least once. I embraced her in a stiff hug and said, ''I love you, Mother.'' She began to sob harder.

I had finally gotten my wish. I had told my mother that I loved her. Unfortunately, it was the first and last time I would ever do it. She was dragged away then, our time was up. I was left there alone, standing motionless, watching my mother drift out of sight. Knowing fully well that I would never see her again.

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Ah, poor Melrose Meade and Numeric Packard! What shall happen? Review to find out!

Just an idea: in the arena, when a tribute dies, I was thinking that I could write a little piece at the end of the chapter, or straight afterwards, on the reaction of the family at home to the death. What do you think? Yes, No, Maybe So? Let me know!

Thanks for reading,

Kate.


	6. District Four Reaping

Sorry for the delay. I hope that I did Eris and Cliff justice.

Disclaimer: Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. I promise!

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**District Four Reaping.**

_Eris Delgrave_

I awoke the day of the reaping with an hour to ready myself. The mere thought of it caused bile to rise in my throat. The Hunger Games were a travesty. The Capitol were pure evil. Of course, one could never voice such thoughts aloud. That was the kind of thing that would lead to a slow, agonising death.

I walked downstairs where my mother served me my breakfast. I ate quickly then made my way back upstairs. I washed quickly and then looked at my reflection in the mirror before dressing. I was 5'4'' tall, with deep red hair that falls to my hips, a heart shaped face, creamy complexion and large eyes the colour of the sea. I liked to think of myself as quite beautiful.

I quickly dressed in my reaping outfit, a flowing knee-length sea green dress. I wore a sea-green ribbon in my hair and sea green wedge heels. My ankle was adorned with an anklet made of blue glass beads that had intricate swirling patterns engraved into them. I looked at my reflection once more, squared my shoulders and walked out my bedroom door.

I left the house and quickly met my best friend, Caralla. She took my arm in hers and we began the walk to the town centre. Her younger sister, Elena, walked behind us, shaking with fear. It was Elena's first reaping and she was beyond nervous. She really shouldn't be, I thought to myself, it was a rare occasion when a twelve year old was actually reaped. The odd were in her favour. I would welcome being reaped. I would definitely volunteer next year. I had been training ever since Elissa was killed. I would avenge her!

We arrived just as the mayor was beginning his annual spiel on the Treaty of Treason. It was the exact same every year. Each time I listened to his speech, it became more and more dull. I zoned out for the remainder of the speech, a defence mechanism. If it were possible to die of boredom, the entire crowd would be slumped lifeless on the ground.

Finally he finished speaking and the mentors stood forward to choose this year's tributes. Thetis Bluewave stepped to the bowl with the names of the potential female tributes.

''Hello District Four!'' She called loudly. ''I just know that we shall have a victor this year.'' Everyone cheered at this. I rolled my eyes. Just because she said so, didn't mean it would happen. ''Now, ladies first! Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!''

Her hand plunged into the bowl and rummaged around, an intent look on her face. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, her hand emerged, a slip of paper grasped tightly in it. She called dramatically, pausing for effect.

''This year's tribute is….Elena Smith!'' I paled. Caralla's younger sister. I turned and searched for her face. I found her chalk-white face, mouth open and hanging.

''Elissa! Where are you? Come on up here! Don't be shy!'' Thetis called. This made my blood boil. Why didn't she go into the Games? Stupid bitch.

Elissa couldn't go into the Games. I wouldn't let it happen. I loved her like my own sister. ''I volunteer!'' I called. ''I volunteer!'' I pushed my way to the stage, shook the hands of the people I had to shake and awaited the announcement of the other tribute. I had done the right thing. I had saved Elena and I would be able to avenge my sister. I may even be able to win.

Finnick Odair sauntered over to the male glass bowl and gave the audience a wink. Several women fainted. He dropped his hand into the bowl, uncaring of the outcome. His hand emerged and he called the name in an offhand manner.

''Cliff Douglas!'' A tall boy about my own age walked steadily to the stage. However, I could see the anxiety in his eyes.

We shook hands and stood while the crowd cheered. We were then ushered into the Justice Building. My parents came, they cried for the entire time. They were sure that they were going to lose me. Before their time was up, they embraced me tightly and said goodbye. Elena and Caralla rushed in next. They thanked me for saving Elena and sobbed. We said our goodbyes and they, too, left. Everyone thought I was going to die. Everyone. Perhaps I was. However, before I did, I would avenge the death of my elder sister. I might live, I might die. I couldn't be certain. But I would avenge the death of elissa. Of _that_ I was certain.

_Cliff Douglas_

I awoke early the day of the reaping. I had to prepare the equipment for the next day's fishing before I left for the town centre. The work was arduous but it calmed me. Each reaping made me more nervous than the last. And next year, Kelvin would be in the mix. How would I survive the worry that would bring? What would he do if I was picked?

Hours later I went inside for breakfast. Malila placed a heaping plate in front of me and I smiled my thanks. I ate quickly and went to get ready. I washed and then dressed. I wore a white button down shirt and black pants. I also wore my work boots. Gemma coaxed me into wearing a yellow tie. I did so to please her. I would never stop feeling like I owed her. She and her family had taken my brother and me in when nobody else would. When we needed someone the most. In thanks, I worked for their shipping company tirelessly. I hoped that by this I could repay them for their kindness, at least somewhat.

We all made our way to the town centre. I took my place in the eighteens and let my mind wander. I didn't come to my senses until Finnick had picked the tribute. I half listened to the name, it took me a moment to realise it was my own. I caught Kelvin's alarmed gaze and smiled at him reassuring. Then I made my way to the stage calmly. However, I was anything but on the inside. Kelvin, Kelvin, Kelvin. What would happen to Kelvin? Would he be okay? I had to come back. I had to. I couldn't just leave him.

I climbed onto the stage and shook the hands I had to. I tuned everything out until I got to the Justice Building. Kelvin and the Glendowers came in. they wished me luck and left Kelvin and me alone.

I hugged him to me tightly, drying his tears. ''It's okay, Kelvin.'' I soothed. ''I'll be back soon, I promise.'' He looked up at me, his eyes glistening with tears. ''You promise?'' He hiccupped. ''I promise.'' I said definitively. Then I allowed him to sob in my arms until the Peacekeepers dragged him away. I would keep my promise. I had to. There was no other option. I would.

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What did you think? Let me know! Review! Adrian Martinez and Jesaray Edwards next chapter in the District Five Reaping! Will be up ASAP. See you all soon. Don't forget to review!

Thanks for reading,

Kate.


	7. District Five Reaping

I present to you; The District Five Reaping! The tributes are Jesaray Edwards and Adrian Martinez. I wasn't overly happy with the last chapter. I hope this one is better. I think it is. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Well, you obviously don't believe me. Peeta is going to tell you. Tell the people, Peeta!

Peeta: She doesn't own the Hunger Games.

Me: And who does?

Peeta: Suzanne Collins.

Me: Marry me?

Peeta: What?

Me: Oh, nothing.

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**District Five Reaping.**

_Jesaray Edwards_

I awoke less than an hour before the reapings were set to begin. Of course, I could have awoken sooner to ready myself. However, to be completely honest, I couldn't be bothered. I wasn't exactly the kind of girl who fretted about how she looked. I was just sitting up in bed and stretching my muscles when my mother bounded in, looking flustered. ''You're only getting up now?'' She screeched. ''Out of bed! Now! NOW! You have to eat and them you'll only have forty minutes to ready yourself for the reaping.'' She turned then and left abruptly, muttering to herself. I rolled my eyes; it would take me less than five minutes to get dressed.

I walked down the stairs, deliberately slowly. I walked into the kitchen and sat down in slow motion. ''Hurry! Hurry! Eat now! Quickly! Quickly!'' She exclaimed as she placed a plate of food in front of me. Then she rushed from the room talking about something or other that needed to be done. I sighed. She had never been the same ever since the accident. I still couldn't think about my dad without wanting to cry. Mom kept busy, she ran around the place, she was always moving. It was her way of dealing with the grief. I knew that, but sometimes it was hard to forgive her. She was always pushing me to do what she believed was right. I was her only child so she put all her energy into trying to control my life. Take this morning; for example, she had wanted me to get up earlier so that I would have longer to get ready. No doubt she had some outrageously girlish outfit ready for me to wear to the reaping. She would want to do my hair and lots of other things that made me cringe. I wasn't like her. I had different interests. I just wish that she could accept me for who I was.

I stood up and brought my empty plate to the sink. I sighed once again and made my way back up to my room. As I was ascending the stairs, my mother screamed my name shrilly. I said that I was coming, teeth clenched. I wanted to say a lot more, but held my tongue. It wasn't worth it. I entered my room to see my mother with her arms folded and tapping her foot impatiently. ''What took you so long?'' She demanded. ''You only have twenty-five minutes to get ready.'' I rolled my eyes and grabbed a towel so that I could go bathe.

When I returned she looked ready to explode. ''You only have five minutes!'' she exclaimed. ''That's fine. Plenty of time.'' I replied. I walked to my dresser and pulled out my chosen reaping outfit. A pair of pants that had once belonged to my father and an old woollen sweatshirt. The outfit was extremely comfortable and if I were to be forced to go to the Capitol, I would want to do so in comfort. She looked horrified. ''You can't wear _that_!'' She exclaimed. ''Yes I can.'' I replied. ''And more importantly I will!''

'Jesaray!'' She said in a warning tone. 'I have a beautiful shirt and skirt here. You are going to put them on and then leave for the town centre. You only have two minutes left. You don't even have time to do anything with your hair. Just do this one thing for me, please!'' Her last words were said pleadingly. There was no time to argue. I had to get dressed and leave. If I didn't, I would be late. The punishment for such a crime was too horrible to even comprehend, let alone experience. ''Fine.'' I said through gritted teeth. Her face lit up. 'But only the shirt. I'm keeping Dad's pants.'' I said this firmly. I would not be swayed on this. Her face fell once again and she sighed in a defeated manner. 'Fine Jessie. Just get dressed and leave, or you'll be late.'' She turned then and left. It was strange. I should feel a sense of victory. Triumph. Instead, I felt empty. Hollow inside. I sighed again. I dressed quickly and glimpsed into the mirror before leaving. The shirt and pants looked ridiculous. They were completely in contrast with one another. Well, nothing I could do about it now.

I walked briskly down the stairs and saw no sign of my mother. She must be off somewhere, sulking. Honestly, she was like a petulant child. I shook my head and walked out the door. For all the fuss at home, I was actually a bit early. I saw my two best friends, Granger and Jareth, and joined them in the sixteen's section. We spoke for a bit before the mayor called attention for his annual Treat of Treason speech. Probably the most boring speech known to man. I think I may actually have dozed off at some stage during it.

When he finished, it was the turn of the mentors. Our mentors were unusual, in that both of them were male. Darrien Holt was the female mentor and Kemper Einstein was the mentor to the male tributes. Though of course, both would assist each tribute. Darrien Holt made his way to the first bowl. He didn't say anything, simply dipped his hand into the bowl and pulled out a single slip of paper. 'Jesaray Edwards.'' He called loudly in a deep voice, then went and sat down once again. I felt myself grow cold. My name. He had called my name. Why? I looked around desperately. Volunteer! Someone! Please! Nobody did. If only I lived in District One, or Two, or even Four. Volunteering wasn't unheard of in our district; they just weren't an exactly common occurrence. I had no choice. I squared my shoulders and walked to the stage. When I stood, looking at the crowd, I searched for the faces of my best friends. I found them quickly enough, pale and horrified. Probably a mirror image of my own. I shook the hands that were offered to me in a daze, somehow not believing what was happening.

Kemper made his way to the glass bowl with the names of potential male tributes. He made more of an effort than Darrien had. 'Hello, District Three!'' He called. 'Let's pick this year's male tribute. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favour.'' He winked at the crowd as he said this. His hand dropped into the bowl and re-emerged with a slip of paper. I hoped it wouldn't be someone that I knew.

'Adrian Martinez!'' He called. I had no idea who he was. A boy about my own age made his way to the stage. He looked harmless enough but had a formidable glint in his eye that made me shirk away from him. I shook his hand unenthusiastically and waved slightly to the crowd. They cheered and clapped, thirsty for our blood. Adrian stood still, drinking in his surroundings. I could see that he was very observant. It would take a lot to fool him. That may be a problem.

I waited in the Justice Building, pacing up and down. I had only been allotted a certain amount of time for my goodbyes. How could I say my final goodbyes to my loved ones on a time limit? Granger and Jareth came first. 'We won't take too much time. Your mother deserves more.'' Jareth said. They each hugged me. 'Jessie, stay strong. You can win this. I promise. Just be careful.'' Granger said. ''And please, do your best to come home.'' Jareth piped in. ''I promise, I will.'' They wished me luck, hugged me once again, and left. I was glad that they had held it together. They hadn't let me see their true feelings; they knew that their being upset would do no good. It would only serve to make me feel worse. I really appreciated it.

My mother was another story altogether. She rushed in, sobbing. Her hands clutched my neck tightly. ''No!'' She sobbed. ''No! No! NO! I can't lose you too! You can't go! You can't! Your father left me, you can't too. I won't let you!'' She buried her head in my chest and sobbed in anguish. ''I love you, Jessie. Please don't go.'' She hiccupped. ''Mom,'' I said gently and tilted her chin up so that she would look at me. ''I have to go. I have no choice. I love you.'' She looked up at me tearily and sighed. ''I know.'' She said, her voice catching. ''I brought you this.'' She continued and handed me something. ''It belonged to your father, I thought you would like it as your token.'' She said. I looked down at the object in my hand. It was an eagle pin. It brought a prickling to my eyes, tears threatening to fall. ''You're so brave. Just like your father.'' She looked at me sadly as she said this. She bent down and kissed my forehead. ''I love you Jessie.'' She said. ''Please, try to come home.'' She turned then and burst into tears once again. I watched her shaking form retreating. She was a broken woman.

I looked down at the pin. She had said I was brave. Brave? I didn't feel brave. I felt like a young child. The only thing I wanted was to curl up in my mother's lap and allow her to shield me from the horrors of the world. Immerse myself in the false safety of her comforting words. Believe that while I was there, nothing could hurt me. That her protection was absolute. But I couldn't. I was no longer a child. And my mother couldn't protect me. Not from the Games. No-one could.

_Adrian Martinez_

I awoke the day of the reaping with an hour to spare. That would give me time to have breakfast, bathe and dress. I did the first two quickly. The reaping would begin in just half an hour. I looked at myself in the mirror. I took in my dark hair, tanned skin and dark eyes. This was my year. I was going to be picked. If not, I would volunteer. I dressed in my reaping outfit, a red, white and black jumper, ripped jeans and black dress shoes. I slipped my token, a silver rosary, into my pocket. My grandfather gave it to me before he died. He had been my only family left, and now he was gone too. I was all alone in this small house and couldn't wait to win the Games and leave it. I would be rich and famous.

I was running late so I rushed to the town centre. I took in my surroundings; I could easily beat any of the people here. I ignored the Treaty of Treason annual spiel. It was all rubbish. The female tribute was picked. Her name was Jesaray Edwards. She didn't look like much of a threat. Although I wouldn't truly know until the Training. There, my observation skills would insure that I would be victorious. I would know the strengths and weaknesses of my opponents. I would allow them to kill one another and then, when there were only a few left, I would strike quickly and quietly, taking them one by one. It would be so easy.

It turned out that I didn't even have to volunteer. I was picked. I walked to stage and the hands of the morons. The girl looked frightened of me already. I smirked. Good start. In the Justice Building we were given time to say goodbye to our loved ones. Shame I didn't have any. They were all gone. The thought sent a sharp pain through me. I wasn't completely heartless. I wished there was someone to say goodbye to. Just one person. I sighed. There would be plenty of people to say goodbye, or rather hello, to once I won the Games.

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Well, what did you think? Let me know! Review! Next up is District Six: Luca Boveri and Cosette Keegan. Can't wait. I've decided that I'm going to do the family reaction to a tribute's death in the arena. It was said in a review that it would reinforced the fact that it was a person dying, which is exactly what I was going for. I becoming attached to the tributes. I want a lot of them to live, but of course only one can. Anyway, please review. They make me smile. Thanks to everyone who has, and please continue to do so.

Thanks for reading,

Kate.


	8. District Six Reaping

Another update! Wow, I'm exhausted. Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. It belongs to Suzanne Collins.

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District Six Reaping**

_Cosette Keegan_

I awoke early the day of the reaping. I had to check on my father before leaving. He had fallen ill. The sickness that had killed my entire family had befallen him. He wasn't doing very well. I couldn't lose him too. I just couldn't. I couldn't be left alone; I was only fourteen years old. Of course, Dad wasn't really looking after me at the moment, the other way around rather. However, just having him around put me at ease.

I walked to his room, he was still asleep. I sighed. There wasn't much I could do. I checked his temperature and made sure that he had enough light quilts to remain warm. I didn't want to wake him. Perhaps rest would do him good. I went downstairs and reheated a bowl of soup. I placed it on his bedside table and left the room. Our doctor could not discover a cure. He didn't know what the sickness even was. He said that what I did everyday, feeding Dad, making sure he was warm enough, getting him whatever he needed, would have to be enough. I just hoped that it was.

I grabbed a quick breakfast and went upstairs to bathe. I then went into my room to dress for the reaping. I wore a plain white tunic and straight black pants. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was my small self, as ever. My black hair reached my hips. My olive green eyes had bags underneath them. I was exhausted. I heaved a sigh, squared my shoulders and left the room.

I checked on Dad once again and whispered in his ear, ''I'll be back soon.'' His only reply was a groan. I gulped, he would get better. He _would. _He had to. I left the house and rushed to the town centre of District Six. Mayor Vallen was beginning his speech on the Treaty of Treason. I barely listened. Then it was time for the mentors to take the stage. An unusually subdued woman stepped forward to the glass bowl containing the names of the potential female tributes. Her hand entered the bowl and emerged with a small slip of paper. ''Cosette Keegan.'' She called clearly.

My name, she had called my name. I was shocked. Completely shocked. Nobody would volunteer, that much I knew. This was District Six. I squared my shoulders and walked to the stage. Who would look after my father? Would he die? NO! No, he couldn't! I wouldn't let him! I had to come home. My size would work against me, of course. I would have to intimidate my opponents. Somehow. I reached the stage and shook the hands of the mentors and the mayor. The camera swung in my direction. It was a completely impulsive action, but I ..Bared my teeth and growled? Where had that come from? It seemed to work, however. The camera hurriedly turned away from me, as if frightened by my actions. Maybe this would be easier than I thought. Maybe I really did have a chance.

It was time for the picking of the next tribute. Sastor Cathaway sauntered to the bowl containing the names of potential male tributes. ''Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!'' He called and plunged his hand in to the bowl in an overly dramatic manner. His hand re-emerged with a piece of paper. ''Luca Boveri!'' He called. A tall boy approached the stage. He was of medium build and was fairly muscled. I felt my hope disappear. This boy could beat me easily. My size and speed wouldn't help if he caught me. There was also the fact that he would almost be considered the underdog in the competition. Other tributes would be much better than him, much stronger and probably more skilled with weapons. I couldn't win. But I had to try.

I kept up the fierce façade for the cameras until I reached the Justice Building. Dad was bedridden so of course he couldn't come and say goodbye. Therefore I had no visitors. Who was going to look after my father? The doctors would have to, wouldn't they? They would check up on him, I was sure they would. They just had to. There was nothing I could do about it, though. I would be gone. I would try to come back, god knows that I would. I would do my best, but how I could I compete with the bloodthirsty Careers? I thought of dying, of never returning to my district, of never again seeing my father, and began to cry. The tears fell silently down my face until the Peacekeepers came to get me. I clutched my necklace token fearfully and followed them.

_Luca Boveri_

I awoke the day of the reaping and went downstairs into the kitchen. I ate breakfast quickly and went upstairs to bathe. Afterwards, I went into my bedroom and got dressed. My reaping outfit was a simple jeans and T-shirt.

My family and I made our way to the centre of the town. Rinadi was past the age of reaping so he and Dad stood with the rest of the crowd. I made my way to the fifteen's section and waited. I looked at the people around me and saw that they all had fear on their faces, probably a mirror of my own. However, I would hedge that mine was slightly less evident. Nevertheless, it was still there.

I lost myself in my thoughts and only resurfaced when my name was called. I gulped slightly but swallowed my fear. I might be able to win, maybe. Enerything was a blur afterward. In the Justice Building, my family and I said our goodbyes. They wished me luck and left. I can do this, I told myself. I can do this.

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Don't forget to review! Next chapter is district 7: Ronan Armstrong and Tera Sullivan. I just want to let you know that each district's reaping will be written. I think that it's important for each tribute to have an introduction. However, after the reapings, when it comes to the chariots, interviews, etc, it will be different. This is so that we can get into the action of the arena ASAP. I don't know whether or not I will be able to update tomorrow. If not, at least you'll have had two today. See you next time.

Thanks for reading,

Kate.


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